You know that you are officially overweight ( politically correct for fat) when you try the low waist jeans, high waist jeans, stretch jeans and in a final attempt to fit into denim gear you try your husband's jeans and of course none of them fit. So let's say you find a large ghagra type skirt which has to fit you because it has a naara instead of elastic ( Thank God) So you get into it and then look for the perfect top- top No. 1 bunches up at the back. Top no 2 squashes your your topular area into a flatland instead of graceful twin peaks. Top no. 3 is faded and is the wrong colour anyway...so you try the top you bought from the men's section is shopper's stop but your husband looks better in it than you do. So you end up wearing the black long sleeved top for the umpteenth time because someone ( actually a lot of people) said that black gives the illusion of slimness. I have tried to delude myself with this black is slimming theory but frankly it sucks.
So then finally you manage to get ready...mix two shades of lipstick which only serve to highlight the hair growth on your upper lipular area... you notice the unshaped eyebrows and think about the much needed trip to the beauty salon...although lately you get the feeling that you come out looking exactly the same after more than one painful procedures having been performed on you. to top it all off you put on your oversized glasses as you have lost one of your contact lenses and viola! there you are in all your fat F****** glory!
Your husband smiles at you and asks- ' Do I look like Collin Farrell?'
And you say-' Ya baby. How do I look?'
And he says-'Nice.'
You smile and pick up the dog who licks you all over your face... and it gladdens your heart. The dog has absolutely no clue that you're fat...she's just happy that she has a cushy tummy to fall asleep on.